Emphyreal Divide

Chapter Twelve

"The greater the number of forces, the greater the chance of success," He pointed out. "You and your men fight with mine, and when it's said and done, you can have whatever spoils you choose. All I want is revenge for my father. I don't care who's in charge after."

"You make a compelling argument, Jiang Nan," The man said, finally lowering his sword. "And if you lose, like your father before you? What do I get then, for sacrificing my men to your pointless wars?"

"I told you what you get. If I'm dead, what care do I have of what happens after?" He replied.

The man slowly allowed a smirk to cut across his features. "Not a legacy man, are you? Don't you want to raise a son to avenge you, let the cycle continue? Very well, if that's your deal, it seems either way I'll be getting what I want. Maybe after I'll have a nice palace, maybe even one of those little cultivation sects like yours. How does that sound? Pleasant?" He paused, head tilting in consideration. "Though, your cultivators aren't fond of my kind, are they? Could be troublesome."

"Is it a deal or not, Yewan?" He cut in; voice sharp.

"I suppose it's a deal, Jiang Nan," Yewan said. With a smirk on his face, they shook hands.

Exhaustion hung heavy over him. It was the mind-numbing kind of exhaustion, one that demanded full attention in every action he took, even the slightest movement required him to acknowledge it. It made falling into bed that night painfully easy, but with the weight of Wei Wuxian's realization and the stress of the past few days hanging over him, sleep made itself elusive. He stared across the bedsheet blankly, the darkness encompassing his room silent and heavy, more than willing to give way to his non-existent thoughts. Sighing, he smoothed out the bedsheet with a hand, slowly clenching it into a fist as he did so. Pressing his eyes closed, he silently wished for answers once more.

That night he dreamt of running. It was dark, but the moon high hung overhead, shedding just enough light to tell bush from tree, to illuminate the grass he ran through a sharp shade of silver. Panic held a tight grip on his heart as he continued to put one foot in front of the other, the repetition all he could manage in the moment. His thoughts were hazy, disjointed; pushing for clarity that never came, reaching the dark tree line just a short distance away the only tangible goal in mind. There was something chasing him, something heavy and dark that made his skin crawl insidiously. He couldn't focus on much else than moving, feeling as though he were being dragged forward each step of the way.

Suddenly, he stumbled, all but thrown to his knees, hands catching his weight and sinking into the muddy earth. A harsh gasp was wrought from his burning lungs by the action, panic and exhaustion making his head spin. Then, there were hands at his elbow, pulling him up to his feet, dragging him forward, grip firm. He followed their lead with little complaint, the tight grip on his wrist giving him little room for objection. He pulled his gaze up from the ground, looking to see who was dragging him along. As if she could sense his eyes on her, she turned her head, flashing him a sharp, exhausted smile he was fairly certain was supposed to be reassuring. "Just keep running, XiaoJiang, it'll be okay."

He woke with a panicked gasp, jerking upright as he did so.

Catching his breath, he pressed a hand to the side of his head, brows knitting together as he did so. What the hell was wrong with him? Another bizarre dream, though this one felt different somehow. It wasn't the painful realism of the dream he had of his mother, but it had still left him with the same panic fluttering in his chest. And the woman in it, the bare few seconds he had seen her face left him feeling a sense of déjà vu. That nickname she had used, that was familiar too, familiar in a way that shot a fresh sense of panic into him, leaving him feeling sick. The voice, whoever or whatever it was, called him that too. Or, at least, he presumed that they were referring to him when they used it. He was the only Jiang left alive, who else could they possibly be talking to?